Smart
by Canadian Belle
Summary: Beta: BugFan4Ever. Sheen isn't the smartest guy around, but even he can see there's something up with her. Why hasn't anyone else noticed? Or, better question: What would UltraLord do to stop it? S/L, kinda J/C and S/C friendship
1. Chapter 1

**Smart**

Sheen Estevez is not a smart human being. Some argue that he is not human at all, instead some kind of UltraLord-drone, created to convince human kind that UltraLord is their saviour, or something. I'm actually not sure what they say. I don't listen to it, so much. I tune it out. It helps, believe me.

Anyway, I guess the point is, 'intelligent' isn't a word used to describe him. Sheen isn't dumb, per se, but people seem to think he is. He's just easily distracted, is all! No, I'm not defending some of the outrageous things I— _he_— does. I— he— I— Oh, never mind. I _am _Sheen Estevez. Sheen Estevez is me.

But everyone knows that I'm not the brightest crayon in the box. My friends know it, my dad knows it, hell, even my little sister knows it. The only one who doesn't seem to get it, the fact that I'm an idiot, I mean, is Libby. Liberty Folfax. Libby, the love of my life. She's the only one who I've never heard crack a 'stupid' or 'spaz' joke when I'm not quite out of earshot but they think I am. She's the only one who still scowls when I have to defend my obsession with UltraLord. She sees past my shortcomings. It's one of the reasons I'm in love with her.

Back to the issue of me being a dumbass. I'm actually a year older than I should be. It was my fifteen birthday (it should have been my fourteenth) when it all went wrong. Ninth grade was tough enough as it was, socially, without everybody knowing you'd failed a grade.

"Happy fifteenth birthday, Sheen," Jimmy said brightly, handing me a present wrapped in purple UltraLord wrapping paper. I grinned sheepishly.

"You mean, _fourteenth_," I corrected, taking his offering and tossing it in the pile with the others. My dad had gone a little overboard this year, inviting every person he could think of to my 'surprise party.' ...Even me. It wasn't really that much of a surprise after I got my invitation. I got my brains from my father's side of the family, obviously.

"_Right_," Jimmy said, giving me an obvious wink. He didn't have time to say anything else, because the next thing I knew, my awesome girlfriend was there.

"Sheeeeeeeeen!" Libby flew through the open door, shoving past Jimmy and wrapping her arms around my stomach tightly. I didn't stumble backwards, as I used to. I had had a major growth spurt in the summer between eighth and ninth grade, and was officially the muscle of my group of friends. Not that I hadn't always been (I mean, compared to Jimmy, Cindy, Libby and Carl, I _was_ the strongest and most willing to fight), I just looked more the part, now, at six feet tall and a hundred and forty-odd pounds.

Jimmy straightened his tie (Judy had made him wear one; I was there for the conversation) and mumbled something about helping Mr. Estevez with the refreshments, leaving us alone.

"You look gorgeous, my Queen," I whispered in her ear, and she laughed.

"'Queen Libby' wants her King to open her present first!" exclaimed my Egyptian beauty, digging around the pocket of her pink, fur-lined trench coat. She found what she was looking for; a little box wrapped in UltraLord-purple with a blue bow, and stuffed it into my hands.

"Oh, shiny..." I was momentarily absorbed in the prettiness of the shiny purple paper, but pulled the bow off and tore the paper as soon as Libby's high heel made contact with my toes and the top of my foot. "Ouch! Ooooh." Libby grinned as I pulled the newest piece of UltraLord paraphernalia out of the box; the figurine-sized UltraLord UltraGloves! I fawned over the gloves— they were perfect for UltraLord figure number 412!— as Libby watched, amused. She still didn't get why I love UltraLord so much, but she tried her best do.

I ran up to my room and put the gloves safely in my UltraSafe safe so I could play with... I mean use... them later. Libby stood in the doorway and waited for me, and I didn't mind. (She knows the combination to the safe, anyway.)

When we went back downstairs, other guests had arrived; Carl (a little taller than when we were children but still as plump, and with acne dotting his chin and nose), Betty Q. (I was surprised to see her back in action so soon after her abortion), Britney (her usual blond pigtails in place, tied in ribbons that matched her cheerleading uniform), Butch (tall and bulky with a buzz-cut, now... why oh why did my dad invite him?), Courtney (wearing the _shortest_ skirt I'd ever seen... not that I was looking, or anything), Nick (eating a lollipop of some kind, as usual), who was with Cindy (annoying as ever, but my she's my girlfriend's best friend, what can I do?), and Emily and Oleander, their mouths permanently fused together (not by some crazy invention of Jimmy's, actually, but of their own free will). Libby grabbed my hand and dragged me over to where Cindy, Courtney, Britney, Nick and Butch were, over in the corner of my living room. It was very weird; I hadn't had many of these people in my house before, and most I was barely friends with, if at all.

Jimmy beckoned me over to where he and Carl were, by the punch bowl, but I shook my head and nodded towards Libby. Carl rolled his eyes and turned to Emily as if to ask her a question, but she was so absorbed in making out with Oleander she didn't even notice him.

"I can't _believe _Betty's here," scoffed Courtney, "Showing her face after getting knocked up by that dork, Skeet..." Cindy gasped.

"Skeet from McSpanky's? He's the father? No way! He's in _college_!" she said, her eyes wide as though with shock, but everyone knew she enjoyed the gossip, especially if it involved Betty Quinlan.

"Yes, pimple-boy!" agreed Britney, "I heard he was the only own who would go to the dance with her after the pole-dance fiasco, and she decided to... you know... _repay _him." The girls giggled, and I sighed. Ever since I started officially dating Libby, I'd been a part of more and more of these kinds of conversations. Libby was one of the 'cool kids,' often hanging out with sophomores, juniors and the occasional senior. Nick and the cheerleaders came as part of the package; and Butch, too, as Nick's muscle.

Gossip didn't interest me (mostly because I was so used to it being about me that I stopped listening), so I occupied myself by looking out the window at a flock of birds crossing the sky. I kept my ears open, though, in case someone asked my opinion of something. No one ever did, but it could happen.

"But he's _so old—_" I heard Cindy say.

"Dude, shut _up_," Nick cut her off, and she was silent. This made me turn my head. Nick was my age— he'd failed grade three— and much bigger than little Cindy, but I'd never heard her shut up when someone told her to before. No one else seemed to notice the odd little shift, so I put it in the back of my mind, where I kept everything that didn't relate to UltraLord, Libby, food, and Jimmy's experiments.

"...And then she ends it, just like that! I would have put the thing up for adoption, if it was me, but I wouldn't be me, of course, 'cause I'm a virgin," explained Courtney in her shrill voice, and the other girls in the group rolled their eyes.

"We signed the pledge too, you know," Libby said. There was an abstinence pledge going around school. Almost every ninth-grade girl had signed it, as well as a bunch of junior ones. It's not like I minded; I had my mind set on marriage for me and my Queen (and she claims I don't plan ahead!), waiting a little longer to become physical wasn't a problem until then.

Libby stuck a headphone in her ear, and I sighed with relief. Conversation: over. When Libby blasts the music, it means she's out. And when she's out, I can be, too.

I left the group and walked up the Jimmy and Carl; who were still sipping punch and watching the corner conversation. "What are they saying?" Carl demanded, "Is it about me? Are they insulting llamas?!" He was less distant about the sudden increase in gossip as Jimmy and I were. He was convinced that everyone was talking about him twenty-four/seven. He's a bit narcissistic, but when I pointed it out, Jimmy was the only one who laughed. I think Carl still doesn't know what it means.

"No, Carl, they weren't talking about you or llamas," I sighed, picking up an empty plastic cup and spinning it on my finger, "They were talking about Betty again." Jimmy looked over to where she was sitting by herself on the couch across the room.

"Did you hear she was raped? Heard it was Skeet, too. Funny, we used to hang around him when we were kids... he never seemed like all that bad a guy." I hadn't heard that particular rumour, actually, but I changed the subject to avoid it, anyway. Whether or not that was the truth, my dad would be back from picking up the cake any minute; I didn't want him overhearing anything he might yell at me over.

As if on cue, my dad walked in the door, a couple of stragglers following him in. The new kids in school, Barney and Shannon, or something, were standing behind him. My dad probably saw them at the store and invited them. That was just his personality; he was too nice for his own good, sometimes.

"UltraSon!" he said with a grin, holding a round cake that was purple (duh) and a packet of candles. He went into the dining room, and our guests and I followed him hungrily. Teenagers have big appetites, especially the boys, and we were all ready for cake.

I caught the packet of multicoloured birthday candles when he tossed them to me. I always put my own candles in my cake. It was like tradition. I usually grabbed a handful and stuff them in, not really caring about the position or number (as long as they didn't cover up UltraLord) of the candles.

Last year, my party had been much smaller; just me, Carl, Jimmy, Libby, Cindy and Nick (Libby had insisted that Cindy be there, and Cindy that Nick be invited, too). Nick had pointed out (and laughed at) the fact that I had only put in ten candles. I had been embarrassed, quickly adding three more.

This year, I quickly counted fifteen candles and arranged them around UltraLord's head. Dad offered me the lighter and I eagerly went to grab it— only to have Libby take it lightly from my hands and mumble something about wanting to do the honours. I had that 'excited but slightly insane' look on my face, and she was worried about giving me hot objects, I knew. Sharp ones, too. She always worried about me hurting myself (or others) in my exuberance. I didn't mind. I knew I was a little too enthusiastic to be lighting my own candles.

Libby quickly lit them for me, then handed the lighter back to my dad, who stuck it in his pocket. He was wearing navy corduroy pants. I like corduroy. It's very comfortable. Sometimes it bunches the wrong way if you jump on your desk at school, but as long as you don't do that, they're great. I was aware that my guests were singing 'happy birthday,' but I couldn't help but thinking about how sometimes, if you have black corduroy—

"Sheen, you're supposed to blow 'em out," Butch said laughingly from behind me. I blushed. I'm easily distracted.

"Right." I leaned over and blew, trying hard not to spit on the cake (people don't like that, no matter how funny it seems at the time). I did relatively well, not spitting at all, and only missing one.

"Ha, you've got one girlfriend, Sheen," Carl said brightly. Libby punched him in the shoulder lightly (but hard enough that he winced).

I extinguished the last candle with my fingers, then went about pulling them out. My dad cut the cake, and handed out pieces to everyone. Not everyone invited had shown up— but it was _my_ party, after all, and this was an amazing turn out as it was.

Nick grabbed the spare plate that I had put the candles on and began licking the icing off them. He'd already finished his piece of cake (and most of Cindy's, too, by the look of it). I ate my own piece (the biggest; my dad's the best!) and kind of watched him out of the corner of my eye as I listening to Jimmy telling some story about Quantum-whatever (ok, so I wasn't really listening all that much).

Nick got this really confused look on his face as he stared down at the now cleaned-off candles. He raised an eyebrow, then laughed. "Hey, Sheen, guess what! You did it _again_," he said in a joking voice, but it sounded more like ridiculing.

"Did what?" I asked, standing up and leaving midway through Jimmy's story. He wouldn't mind; Carl was still trying to follow along.

He chuckled and held up the plate. "Ya put on the wrong number of candles, dude." I blinked a few times, then took the plate from him. I quickly counted.

"No, there are fifteen..." I said, wishing the words would stop the minute I started saying them. I closed my lips quickly, as though trying to hold them in, but they'd already come out. Whoops. I froze. I saw Jimmy looking at me sympathetically, and Carl scratching his head (not knowing what was going on).

"Fifteen?" Nick (who I hate to admit is probably not that much smarter than I am) looked like he was doing mental calculations. "You failed a grade?" The room was silent except for my father's sharp intake of breath and the clock ticking on the mantle.

Dad always tried to bury it. It was only first grade, after all, he'd tell me. Not a big deal at all. I believed him. Didn't think it was important. And I had a good reason to, it's not like it was my fault; I didn't know English real well yet, my mom was trying to teach me, but I never tried outside the house. So I didn't talk at school. So my teacher failed me. But it wasn't a big deal.

"First grade," I mumbled, running a hand through my hair. Libby, Cindy and Carl looked the most shocked out of everyone. They'd known me in second grade, when we moved to Retroville. Really, I should have been in third.

"You know what this means, don't you?" I looked at him. No, I didn't. Was it really that big a deal? Why was everyone so quiet! You could hear a pin drop, seriously.

"Uh..." I racked my brains as hard as I could. Date with Libby tomorrow. Had to help Jimmy with testing something or other on Sunday. Llama joke. New UltraLord comic on Tuesdays. UltraLord on at seven thirty. Corduroy pants are awesome. ...Nothing else. "...No."

"You can't be the fastest runner in the ninth grade anymore. We're gonna have to take back your trophy, dude." Trophy? Oh, right. The gold-painted soup can with the word 'winner' written across it with black Sharpie that was sitting on my dresser with my (least valuable) action figures. Why would they need to take it back? I won it fair and square in the Ninth Grade Olympics (a polite way of saying 'initiation' or 'hazing').

"Why?"

"Because you failed a grade."

"And that makes a difference?"

"Yes. _I _wasn't allowed to win a trophy because I got sick and missed most of grade three," Nick said matter-of-factly (though he didn't come close to placing high anyway, so why would he care?), "So you getting to compete is like cheating, dude." "No it's not!"

"Is so."

"That doesn't make any sense, N—" Cindy tried to defend me, but Nick silenced her with a glare before she could finish. Another couple of things to store in the corners of my mind. Cindy tried to defend me! We aren't really friends... my best friend has a (painfully obvious) crush on her, and I'm dating her best friend... so it was an anomaly. The other was the Nick was able to get her to shut up again. She usually did everything she could to make her point— it was a little weird.

"Unless you want the _entire_ school knowing how much of a cheater you are, I suggest you hand over the trophy," said Butch, menacingly cracking his knuckles. I clenched my jaw, not moving for a moment. But then I gave up and frowned, turning around, towards the stairs.

"Don't do it, Sheen, he has no right," Jimmy hissed as I started to walk, but I ignored him. I was angry. It's not like I loved the stupid soup can all that much, but I was proud that I had won it, all by myself. My dad had been proud of me when I brought it home and told him that I was the fastest kid in ninth grade. My grandmother had smiled. That's why I was angry. Well, that, and I liked it because it was shiny.

I stomped up the stairs moodily and slammed the door to my room open so hard it made a dent in the UltraLord wallpaper. I was going to regret that later, but I didn't care. I snatched the can off my dresser and glared at it, in all its pretty, shiny glory. I doubted that if I gave it back, my secret wouldn't get out. Betty would tell everyone, to get some of the heat off herself. And, _really_, you think Cindy, Britney and Courtney would keep it?

I stomped loudly back to the top of the stairs and yelled, "Hey Nick!" He turned to face the stairs with a smug expression on his face. I couldn't help it. I had to wipe that smirk off. "¿Usted piensa cuidado de I? ¡Usted puede guardar su trofeo estúpido, usted asno!" I chucked the can as hard as I could at the jerk, and it hit him between the eyes. There were gasps from everyone; Libby and my dad's were the loudest. My dad's not because of my violent outburst (God knows I have enough of them), but because I had sworn at the guy (albeit in Spanish). I felt bad. Not bad enough to apologise, though, so I turned around and went back into my room, slamming the door so hard the frame shook.

I could hear whispers from downstairs. "_What did he say?_" "_Did he just all you an ass?_" "_Did he hurt you, Nicky?_" and "_Woah, spaz much!_" being a few of them. I threw myself down on my bed and pulled my pillow over my head. I was going to be in hell tomorrow. But I really didn't care all the much.

The anger faded, and I started regretting having acted so rash. They were going to kill me at school tomorrow; I was going to be a laughing stock!


	2. Chapter 2

I decided that I was simply not going to go to school anymore. It made sense in my head (a lot of things do), but not in the real world. I knew I couldn't drop out of school at fifteen. I was a ninth grader, for UltraLord's sake! Who would hire me? How would I make money? I'm sure my dad wouldn't let me live at home forever... but it made sense in my head.

My dad didn't take it too well. "Of course you're going to school!" he objected as soon as I told him that I wasn't. It wasn't fair, but he made me get dressed (by practically dressing me himself) and eat (I did that without protesting. Hey, I was hungry!), then forced me out the door. I walked slowly, kicking stones along the sidewalk. Usually I walked with Jimmy and Carl, but I was running late and they'd already gone without me.

I stopped myself from kicking a pretty rock on the edge of the curb. It was shiny... kind of like the soup can trophy had been shiny. I stared at it, feeling more and more depressed. I couldn't go to school. Nick had revoked my title of the fastest kid in ninth grade. Everyone would laugh at me! The guys probably hated me for not returning their calls... and Libby was probably mad at me for hurting Nick. I hoped I got him good. I kicked the shiny rock as hard as I could, and it went flying into a car windshield. It wasn't all that big a rock... but it left a pretty big chip in the glass.

I started running. Just running, with nowhere to go. I wasn't going to school, that was for sure. I would just run forever; yeah, that was a good idea! I like running. I'd just run forever and ever and eventually everything bad would just go away. Everyone would forget that I failed grade one. Everyone would forget that I'd lost the stupid friggin' trophy. Everyone would forget that I was even there, if I ran far enough. It all made sense, in my head.

I had to pee. My weak bladder was my only problem with my plan. I was near the park, so I quickly made a beeline for the Port-O-Potties and relieved myself (Libby said it was impolite to pee in public unless you were in a Port-O-Potty after I had to pee on a walk to the park... and I picked a bush to do just that). When I was finished, I rinsed my hands in the fountain (there aren't sinks in Port-O-Potties, and Libby says you have to wash your hands when you go to the bathroom), then continued my run. But I was getting tired.

Halfway through the park, I stopped at a park bench to catch my breath. I'd been running for what seemed like forever (it was a big park!) and I wasn't even out of Retroville yet! I sat down on the bench to think, dropping my backpack on the ground. Would the school call my dad when I didn't turn up at school? I hadn't thought of that. Would he be worried about me? I hadn't thought of that, either. Would Libby be worried? Probably, even if she hates me for hurting her best friend's boyfriend. I was so screwed.

Everyone was going to hate me. My dad. Libby. Jimmy. Carl. Nick. Cindy. The school. Even Butch! This was a bad idea, a dumb idea. I was just going to make things worse by playing hooky. I went to stand up, when something shiny caught my eye.

"Ooh," I murmured, entranced. Like I said, I'm easily distracted. "Shiny." I stumbled over to the shiny thing. It was a bracelet in the grass. Some girl must have lost it. I bent over and picked it up. It looked familiar. Did it belong to Libby? No, I would have remembered her wearing something so shiny and awesome. It was silver with little charms on it. A heart, a star, a butterfly, a crown, a 'C,' and a rocket... of course! Jimmy had given this bracelet to Cindy for her birthday!

I looked around in confusion. Why had Cindy left her bracelet in the park? Had she lost it be accident? Cindy's house wasn't all that far away, right? I should really return it to her. I looked around the park again. Which direction was her house, again? I racked my brains. Libby's address, Jimmy's address, home, school, the Candy Bar... Jimmy's house. Didn't Cindy live across the street from him? I smiled. I knew where Jimmy lived! I would go to Cindy's house and put the bracelet in her mailbox for her.

Jimmy's house was north from here. I looked around, trying to figure out exactly where I was. I spotted the edge of the trees that lead to the Retroville Forest. If I was correct, north was that way. So if I cut through the forest, I could get there faster! Then I could go back to school, so my dad didn't worry, and I could apologise to Libby.

I strode purposefully into the woods, forgetting about my backpack (which I left by the bench, I think). I was determined to return the one piece of jewellery that Cindy had actually liked (she even said thank you to Jimmy, and didn't call him a geek when he gave it to her!).

I walked north. I walked north and north and north. North was starting to get boring. I'd forgotten where I was going, so I stopped and looked around. Where was I? I began to panic. What was I doing in the woods? Was I dreaming? Why did everything look the _same_?! Every single tree looked the same as the other... I spun around in a circle, trying to figure out why I was there.

I realised I was holding something, and looked down. "Ooh, shiny," I murmured, looking at the bracelet. It was really pretty... I shook my head. I was supposed to be going north! I remembered. To Jimmy's house, so I could find Cindy's house, so I could return the bracelet.

...But which way was north? I looked around; trying to remember what Jimmy told me to do when I got lost. "_Look at the moss on the trees,_" he had told me. "_It always grows on the north side of trees._" I looked at the moss on the trees. It was mostly all on one side; so that must be north! I grinned, and started walking in the direction.

I stopped. My smile faded. Moss _did_ grow on the _north_ side of trees, right? What if he said south, or east? I couldn't remember exactly what he said. I was always misremembering things. I was probably wrong about it growing on the north side. So which way did I go? Which side did it grow on?!

I sat down on the dirty ground to think.

It was relatively warm for mid-November. At night it still got cold enough that early in the morning there was frost on the ground, but it warmed up pretty quickly. It must be about noon now, because it was warm. My stomach growled to confirm that. I'd missed half the day of school! Dad was going to be _so_ mad.

So, north. North, north, north, north. Which way to go... I had no clue. But dang, was I starving! I reached over my shoulder to open my backpack, but my hand was met with air. I wasn't wearing it. My stomach growled again, reminding me that I didn't have my lunch with me.

I stuck the bracelet in my pocket and started walking in a random direction, hoping it was north. Even if it wasn't, the woods had to end some place, right? I'd find my way out, then figure it out from there.

"Dad is going to _kill _me," I said to myself with a groan. And he would. My new beige pants were all dirty! And I'd skipped school! He was going to be _so _mad.

The trees thickened. This was not my best idea, but I kept going, walking in a straight line. It wasn't long before I had to push low branches out of my way. The smaller ones kept snapping back before I was through them and hitting my bare arms. They stung like a bugger, leaving little red lines all over my skin. One hit me across the cheek, and I actually yelped out loud. It hurt!

That was about when I started getting nervous. Trees pressed in on me from all sides. They seemed to be getting closer to each other and to be. I felt claustrophobic. I had to get out. I ran for my life, getting whipped by branches, trying to fend them off by randomly flailing my arms. "Arrrg!" I yelled, sounding much like a pirate, as a much larger branch swung back after I had pushed it away and caught me in the stomach. It hit me so hard, I fell over.

I was on my butt in the dirt, covered in cuts and bruises, with Cindy's bracelet in my pocket, and very, very hungry... I hate to admit it, but I started to cry. Sometimes life just sucks, you know? I had no clue where I was, the tiny cuts on my arms were stinging like hell, my stomach ached from hunger and because the stupid branch had caught me, and I was sitting on my butt in the dirt, getting my pants even dirtier!

"I want a hug. I want food. I want my UltraLord blanket!" I sobbed uncontrollably. I shivered, suddenly feeling cold. "I want to go home!" Wind whistled through the trees but didn't answer me. "I WANT TO GO HOME!" The forest gave no reply.

I don't remember how long I wallowed in my self-pity before getting up and trying again. I don't remember how many times I tripped and fell. I don't remember how many times I felt like I was going to die, alone in that forest. Eventually I gave up and found a semi-comfortable tree to sit against.

It got darker, then colder. November, I realised, was a very bad time to get yourself lost in the woods. I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself. "I want to go home," I whispered, "I just want to go home." It became a sort of comforting chant, whispering "_I want to go home,_" over and over. It kept things from becoming too quiet.

The forest sounds began to make me more and more nervous as it got darker. But I am Sheen, Fearless Warrior. The only thing I'm scare of is the crawlspace under my house, and only because there are creepy-crawlies under there that hate me. I am not afraid of the dark, or aliens, or space, or other dimensions, or Butch, or Jimmy testing things on me, or even Cindy Vortex when she's angry; and that's saying something. So why was every creak of a tree, every howl of the wind, every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves startling me and making me hug myself and shiver? I am Sheen. I am not afraid.

"I want to go home."

I gulped as an owl 'w_hoooh_'ed somewhere not too far away. "I want to go home," I repeated, then, in a whisper I'm not even sure was audible, "I'm scared."


	3. Chapter 3

I must have fallen asleep, or fainted, or something, because the next thing I know, I'm hearing voices. And not the kind in my head! (I'm not _that_ crazy!) They were calling something over and over... but they were too far away, and I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying.

The voices drifted closer, and I could hear what they were saying now, but I still didn't move. "Sheen!" the voices called, "Sheen, where are you?" I pulled my knees up to my chest and laid my head on them. It was cold. I wanted to go home. But I didn't want anyone to see me crying, so I wiped my eyes and nose on my beige pants (My dad was still going to kill me about ruining them).

"Sheen!" I looked up and saw the familiar face of Mr. Neutron. "Sugarbooger! I found him!" I sighed, and shivered.

"Sheen Juarerra Estevez!" said Mrs. Neutron in the same voice she used to scold her son after one of his experiments goes awry. She ran up to me, and I half expected her to smack me. But her gaze softened and she bent down beside me, laying a hand on my shoulder. "Thank God we found you. We were so worried. Come on, let's get you home." She helped me to my feet and held my hand like a mother would as she walked me away from my place of misery.

Mr. Neutron was running around yelling "I found him! I found him!" It wasn't long until we reached the edge of the forest, and I was so relieved that I (might have) cried (a little, tiny bit). People started emerging from the trees; a lot more than I would have thought. I even saw Mrs. Fowl and Cindy's mom, two people who hate me, with relieved expressions as they were told I'd been found. Apparently they found my backpack and figured out I'd gotten lost in the woods, and put together a search party.

I wasn't sure if I saw him first, or if he saw me, but the next thing I knew my hand was free of Mrs. Neutron's hand I was running toward my dad. He enveloped me in a giant hug, not saying a word. He kissed my forehead and I clung to him desperately, like a life raft in the sea.

I don't know how long we stood there. All I know is the fear ebbed, and I slowly began to feel better. I saw Jimmy and Carl looking relieved a few feet away and released my dad and turned intending to go see them. He caught me arm and I yelped, the cuts stinging. He let go, but turned my shoulder so I faced him.

"Sheen," he said, and I swore I think I saw his eyes water in the moonlight, "Sheen, son, don't ever, _ever_ run away again. Do you hear me?" He looked me in the eye; we were the same height. "Don't ever scare me like that." I blinked away an onslaught of new emotions, mostly regret.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, trying not to meet his gaze. I felt so ashamed. He smiled slightly and patted me on the shoulder.

"Sheen, thank God you're alive!" I heard Carl say, walking up to me and ruining the moment. Jimmy quickly followed, expressing similar feelings.

I looked around for Libby as my dad drifted off to talk to the adults, but I couldn't see her. The guys were talking about something I wasn't listening to. "Where's Libby?" I finally voiced, looking at them with wide eyes. "Did she not fear for my life as I battled the Terrors of the Tiresome Trees like UltraLord did in episode 419?"

Jimmy and Carl looked around for her, too. "Yeah, Cindy isn't here, either," Jimmy said, confused, "But I swear I saw her with her mom earlier." I nodded. I'd seen Cindy's mom, so Cindy must be around here somewhere. And where Cindy went, Libby went.

"Maybe they got lost," said Carl, eyes wide with fear, "Looking for you, in the trees! What if they're still out there and don't know you're here with us?" Jimmy frowned.

"They'll turn up soon, if that's the case, Carl," he said seriously, "My dad's running around yelling that we found him."

_Speak of the devil_, I thought as I saw a certain dark-haired beauty and her best friend emerge from the trees not far from where we were standing. She spotted me in a second, and then raced towards me, a grin on her angelic face. She threw her arms around my midsection and hugged me very, very tightly (not that I was complaining). She buried her face in my chest.

"Sheen, what were you thinking?" she scolded into my wrinkled t-shirt. But she didn't sound really angry, more relieved. I smiled and kissed her forehead.

"Sorry."

"That's not an answer, silly." But she didn't pursue it any more. Cindy stood awkwardly off to the side of everyone, not really talking or going home like most of the searchers. I gently removed Libby's arms from around my waist and kissed the back of one hand.

"I shall return momentarily, my love," I promised, letting go of her hand and walking over to Cindy.

"What do you want, UltraDork?" Cindy sneered in her usual way, eying me with distaste. I fumbled around in my pocket and pulled out the shiny bracelet.

"I found this in the park today," I told her, holding it out, "I remembered it was yours, and took a short-cut through the forest to bring it to your house." Cindy's hand shook as she took the bracelet from my outstretched hand.

"You...? You were trying to return something of mine when you got lost?" Her voice was almost a whisper. "That's so sweet." She examined the bracelet, and I saw an odd emotion cross her face: fear. I swore I saw it, if only for a moment. She quickly shoved it back towards me. "Sweet, but misguided. This isn't mine."

I looked at the bracelet, then back at her. "Yes it is," I protested, "Jimmy gave it to you. See, it has a 'C' on it for 'Cindy' and everything!" I tried to show her, but she backed up, putting her hands out in front of her as if to try and ward me off.

"No, it must be someone else's. That's not mine," she repeated, her voice shaking a little. "Jimmy didn't give me that." I shrugged and put it back in my pocket.

"If you say so."

I turned around and went back to Libby, who was trying hard to follow whatever Jimmy was talking about. "Sorry, Libby," I said, approaching the group. Libby nodded in slight acknowledgement and put her hand out. I took it in mine and stood beside her as she listened intently.

"And I'll monitor his brainwaves the _whole _time," Jimmy promised, and Libby bit her lip.

"I dunno, it still sounds dangerous..." She looked at me, then back at Jimmy. "Are you sure it's safe?"

"I just explained all that!" he groaned, "Gosh, life was a lot easier before I had to get _permission_ before testing things on Sheen. It's just a _few_ harmless watts of electricity. It's perfectly safe! He'll even enjoy it. You know how he is with shocks."

"Shocks?" I asked excitedly, remembering the last time I felt that wonderful painful tingle from my scalp to my toes. "Cool!"

"See?" Jimmy patted her arm. "Doesn't bother him a bit."

"Well, I guess so..." She sighed. "As long as it doesn't interfere with my plans on Saturday. I got tickets for us to go see Grey Star!" She grinned at me excitedly. "I was going to tell you today at school, but you weren't there... you'll come with me, right?"

"Of course! As long as Jimmy can tape UltraLord for me." I looked at him. "Pleeeeeease?" Jimmy rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, sure."

"Great!" Libby punched the air triumphantly. "Then it's settled. This weekend you can test your whatchamacallit on Sheen, then on Saturday he, Cindy and I are goin' to see the best band ever!"

Inwardly, I groaned. Cindy would be coming along? She'd be whining about how her feet hurt, or how it was too loud, or how I was dancing too crazily the whole time! Not to mention she'd call me 'UltraDork' or 'UltraDweeb' and mock my hero vivaciously! She'd blab on about Nick or his skateboarding skills, or his most recent breaks, or his '_adorable flaws_,' and we'd end up missing half of the good songs. Taking Cindy anywhere was a pain in the butt, but she came along with Libby, unfortunately.

"Perfect! Sheen, I expect you to be at the lab tomorrow after school as soon as you can."

"Sure, Jimmy, whatever."

"Shheeeeeeeeeenie!" I heard my annoying little sister call. "Daddy says it's time to go hoooooooomme!"

"I'll be right there, Mia! Hold your horses!"

"I don't have any horses!"

I turned to Libby. "I've got to go."

"Alright." She pecked my cheek. "Just remember to go to Jimmy's after school. I have choir practice, so I won't be able to come." I nodded.

"Shheeeeeeeeeeeeen!"

"I'm coming!" I squeezed her hand quickly, then raced off towards the little bugger yelling, "Miiiiiiiaaaaaaaaa!" just to annoy her. As I was running, I saw Cindy and Nick standing over by the trees. They were obviously having an argument; she had her hands bawled into fists by her side, and so did he. She was red-faced from yelling, though I was too far away to hear the words. He grabbed her hand and dragged her into the forest, kicking and screaming.

If my dad hadn't made me come home, I would have gone over there to see what was up. I should have gone over there. I should have helped her. But how could I have known? How could any of us have known? And why hadn't anyone else noticed?


	4. Chapter 4

_Zzzzzztt! _

My teeth chattered together as my body was flooded with 100 volts of electricity.

"Look at his brain waves!" Jimmy said excitedly, pointing at a spiking green line on one of Vox's screens. "The pleasure center of his brain is sending him so much serotonin it's like he's taking drugs!" The machine stopped and I put my hands on my knees, panting.

"Woah..." I murmured, stunned. "That was totally awesome! Do it again!"

"Why did he like that? I thought you said it might hurt..." Carl grumbled, crossing his arms.

"I'm shocking his neural cortex with just enough electricity to start a chemical reaction, but not enough to kill him," Jimmy explained, leaving out most of the science words for our sake, "This new invention can cure addiction, if I tweak it a little! Instead of needing to shoot up, for example, a drug addict would just need a brief shot of this to be able to give him the same pleasure, therefore eliminating his need for whatever he was getting high on. It would work on smokers, too! And alcoholics if I turn it into a mild depressant..."

"Jimmy, Jimmy, I'm addicted to sugar. Can this thing help me get off the stuff?" I looked at the silver box excitedly and began to fiddle with the bowl on my head that was connected to it.

"Sheen, you aren't addicted to sugar, and you cut me off mid explanation!" I rolled my eyes, and he continued. "The addicts would become less dependent on their fix and become addicted to the machine instead. But weaning them off the machine would be much easier than a drug would be, because they wouldn't have to go through withdrawal! Every rehabilitation center in the country will have one of these in the next ten years, I'm sure," he concluded. I looked over at Carl. He was asleep on Jimmy's couch and snoring softly.

"Jimmy," I whispered, not wanting to wake him, "Can you shock me again, pleeeease?"

"Sheen, I don't think it's a good idea for you to use it too much..." I groaned sadly, looking at my shoes.

"But Jimmy, I _love_ electricity and—"

"Security Alert! Attempted entry! Attempted entry! Security Alert!" Vox said, and a little red light came on in the ceiling. "Speaker on."

"_Your moth-ah can't stop the funk. Ooh! Your broth-ah can't stop the funk! Oh! Your sist-ah can't stop the funk! No! No one can stop the funk, 'cause it's funky tie-ime!_" I grinned, forgetting what I was saying.

"The girls are here!" I said excitedly. Jimmy rolled his eyes to look at me.

"_No_, really?" he said sarcastically, "I didn't get that from the fact that someone who sounds exactly like Libby is singing a Grey Star song just outside the lab's door."

"...Oh." My brain was having trouble filtering out the sarcasm.

"_Jimmy, tell Vox I don't have cooties!_" Libby's sweet voice rang over the crackly speakers.

"Vox, allow entry," Jimmy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. There was a _whoosh_ing sound, and the trap door opened in the ceiling. My Queen fell through it with a piercing scream, onto the strategically placed sofa. Unfortunately, Carl was still sleeping on it.

"Oof." Libby landed on top of Carl.

"Ahh!" He yelped, arms flailing, falling off the couch and brining Libby down with him. "Jimmy! I'm being attaaaaaaacked!"

"Carl, quit your whinin'! It's just me." She climbed off of him and got to her feet, dusting off her knees. Jimmy and I exchanged looks. We seemed to tell each other how to handle the situation with just one glance. Being friends with someone for as long as we've been can come in handy. His look said, 'I'll deal with Carl,' in a not-happy-about-it way.

"Are you alright, Carl?" Jimmy asked offhandedly as I embraced my girlfriend.

"Noooo," wailed my heavyset friend, sitting on the floor and looking sad. "She... she fell on me, and it... my tummy hurts.... and my scapula... I'm an easy bruiser..." He was sobbing hysterically. I shot Jimmy an apologetic look as he went about comforting Carl.

"What have you got on your head, Sheen?" Libby looked at the metal bowl with wires sprouting from the top with distaste. I shrugged.

"Invention." One word that clarified everything.

"Ah." She looked over at Jimmy, who was rubbing Carl's stomach with a disgusted look on his face saying 'Nonny nonny nonny,' over and over again. "You wanna get out of here? Are you guys done?" I nodded.

"Yeah, Jimmy said he won't shock me anymore," I said, more than a little disappointment in my voice. I took of the bowl.

"Oh, and that's _such_ a letdown," Libby sighed, taking my hand and leading me out of the lab. "I feel like a Purple Flurp. Candy Bar?"

"Anything for you, my Queen," I enthused, gripping her hand tighter and taking off at top speed down the street (practically dragging her behind me). It only hit me once we were seated at the Candy Bar (Libby got a Purple Flurp and a burger and I got two burgers, a hotdog, three Purple Flurps and a chocolate fudge sundae with extra sprinkles) that Cindy hadn't been at the door with Libby, like I had thought. I also remembered her seat being empty at school.

"Where's Cindy?" I blurted out, and Libby stopped, mid-sentence. She had been talking about Grey Star, I think, and how good our seats were.

"At home," she said, taking a sip of her soda, "Said she caught the flu, or something. There was a lot of fake coughin', so I bet she was faking it... why?" I bit my lip and shrugged, though I had this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. The last time I saw her she was being dragged into the trees by her boyfriend...

_Stop obsessing,_ my brain told me, _Geez, you don't even like her! He was probably just looking for a private place for them to talk or make out or something. It's not like something bad happened..._

When I walked Libby home just before dinner, a few hours later, I told her to keep a look out for Cindy for me. When she asked why, I just said I needed to ask her something. The truth was, I wanted to ease that uneasy feeling I had. Libby agreed and went to go eat dinner with her family. I went to Jimmy's.

"Jimmy," I said, walking into the lab (he had long ago programmed Vox to let me and Carl in), "Have you seen Cindy?" He looked up from whatever he was tinkering with and cocked and eyebrow.

"No. Why?"

I flopped down onto the couch and sighed. "Dunno. She wasn't at school, and Libby says she's faking sick. There's just been something up with her lately, haven't you seen it?" Jimmy rolled his eyes.

"Sheen, there's nothing wrong with her that wasn't always wrong with her," he said, taking off the large safety goggles he'd been supporting and tossing them onto a table. "I've observed some pretty strange behaviour in her before." He walked to his bookshelf and took down a thick volume. "It's nothing to be worried about. She's just weird." He offered me the book, and I took it. "These are my notes. Go ahead and look for... whatever. Just bring it back when you're done." I nodded and got up.

"Thank you, Jimmy!" I said with a grin, "You're probably right." I paused by the entrance to the elevator. "Say, you remember that bracelet you gave her?"

"The one for her birthday last year? Sure." He put his goggles back on. "Why?"

"What did it look like?"

"It was a silver charm bracelet with charms on it that reminded me of her. A heart, because she's so loving when she wants to be; a star, because she is one; a butterfly, because she's so free-spirited; a crown because she can be an egotistical princess sometimes; a rocket, to remind her of our adventures; and a 'C' for Cindy," he recited, knowing it by heart. He picked up a tool off his workbench. "Why?"

"No reason." I pressed the up button and got on the elevator, which took me into the small, wooden club-house. I left, carrying the book under my arm, and wondering why Cindy would lie and say the bracelet wasn't hers.

"It's probably nothing," I said to myself as I opened the gate into my back yard. I cross the patio and the lawn and went to the tree. I put the book in the old metal bucket that was hanging by a rope from it and grabbed a low branch.

I swung my legs into the fork of the tree and hauled myself up a few more branches. It was an old tree, and though my fingernails pulled the bark off the poor trees limbs as I clawed my way up them, the branches easily supported my weight. I got about halfway up and sat down on a wooden platform. Really, it was seven two-by-fours nailed between two branches, but it was the closest thing I had to a tree fort. My mom and I had started building it when I was eight, when we first moved to Retroville, before she was sick. It never got finished.

The one thing we had finished was a pulley system to get sandwiches and UltraLord comics to the fort. A rope (the original had to be replaced, and I cried when it did, but it was frayed and broke when my dad tried to send me up ice cream one night when I was ten) was tied to a branch, then went over a metal wheel that was tied to a higher branch. The end of the rope was tied to the bucket at the bottom. I untied my end and pulled until the bucket reached me (half falling over because of the weight of the book). I removed the book and let the bucket down again, and retied the rope.

The book was long and tedious and used many long words that I doubt I'll ever understand. It mentioned her pacing and her sleepless nights that Jimmy had seen through her window. It mentioned a punching bag and screaming parents and throwing heavy objects out of her window. It mentioned constant fights, both verbal and physical, and odd romantic moments that she seemed to bring on. It mentioned hand holding, and ty kwon do classes. It mentioned babbling when she was nervous, and how she never, not once, cried like a regular girl. It mentioned weird looks at Jet Fusion's wedding, and a wish to stay on the island they had been stranded on. It mentioned river dancing and how she never talked about her family. It mentioned a lot of things. But being quiet and submissive and skipping school wasn't one.

I read the whole book. It took me all night (I even read at the dinner table, freaking out my dad and Mia) and by morning, I was exhausted. Libby called, but I fell asleep with the phone in my hand. When I woke up, around noon, I took out a clean notebook (I never used those things for school, but my dad kept buying me them every September) and began to make my own notes on Cindy Vortex. It read:

**Cindy (short for somthing, dont know whut) Vortex:**

**wierd behavor: didnt stand up to Nick, was quiet, fought with him, said braselet wasnt hers, let Nick eat her cake at my birthday, looks sad all the time, got pulled into the forrest by Nick, didnt show up at school, lied to Libby, hasn't fought with Jimmy latly, didnt talk much at my party**

I didn't know what to make of my observations. Cindy acting weird wasn't weird according to Jimmy, but his notes indicated that she'd never done this before. I couldn't help but think there was something big going on. Very big. And very bad.


	5. Chapter 5

I put on a clean(ish) shirt and squirted a large amount of hair gel into my palm. I had to leave in half an hour in order to meet Libby and Cindy at the Candy Bar with our bikes. I shuddered as I rubbed my hands together to evenly distribute the gel and then ran them through my hair, making sure it stuck up in spikes in all directions as randomly as possible. Random is good.

"Sheen, your _girlfriend_'s here!" Mia's voice made me jump as she yelled from downstairs. I glanced at the clock. She was early.

"Coming!" I yelled back, taking on last look in the mirror before running out of my room and down the stairs, taking them two at a time. I saw my Queen, and her beauty took my breath away.

She had done her eye make-up in the way I like, not too thick, but really colourful. She had her hair in the usual braids, but had the front two pulled back and clipped at the back of her head, making it look like she was wearing a crown. Her lips were ruby red and sparkly (like, super shiny! They were mesmerising) and she was wearing a tight Grey Star band t-shirt that showed off her midriff and low rise dark jeans. She walked up to me and closed my open mouth.

"Come on, Sheen, I think it might take a little coaxing to get Miss No-Show out of her house."

"Who?" I was completely lost.

"Cindy! She called me and told me she was sick, and to give her ticket to someone else!"

"So?"

"Cindy and I have wanted to go to this concert for weeks! She wouldn't just bail unless something bigger is going on. We're gonna find out what." She had that determined face on.

"Uh... sure." I put my arm around her shoulder and walked her out of my house. "Why has Cindy been acting so strange?" Libby rolled her eyes.

"I have no idea! Not showing up for school?" She sighed and put on leg over her bike. "She broke her perfect attendance record. She's had in since... God knows how long! Since we've been in school, I think, except for that one sickday when she couldn't take the Sick Patch off, remember? She was torn up about it for weeks. And now she's ditching, not only school, but me as well?"

I got my own bike out of the shed and walked it down the driveway, where I got on and started riding it down the street with Libby right beside me. "Yeah, and before that, with Nick..." I remembered her fighting with him, and they never fought. And he pulled her into the woods so savagely...

"What about him?"

"They had a fight on the night I got lost. Didn't she tell you?"

"No!" Libby slammed on her breaks and stopped. I quickly did the same and turned around to look at her. She looked angry. "She tells me everything!"

"Don't worry, chica, I'm sure she just forgot..." I frowned. I _never_ lie to Libby. And Cindy never forgets anything, let alone a fight. She still held the whole equator business over Jimmy's head (though she seemed pretty happy with him for a while after they were stranded on that island. I wonder what happened).

We started riding again, and dropped our bikes on Cindy's front lawn when we got to her house. Libby ran right up to the door and rang the bell, while I followed and stood behind her more hesitantly. The door opened a crack, and a green eye could be seen peeking around it. Cindy opened the door and looked at us. She was a mess!

Her hair was in a very sloppy low ponytail that was draped over one shoulder, and she was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt that was about a hundred sizes too big for her petite torso and track pants with old stains on them. Her eyes were red, maybe from crying, and her nose was running. She looked like Mia had when she found out that there was no Santa Claus.

"Cindy, what happened to you?" Libby gasped, stepping forward to give her friend a hug. Cindy flinched and took a step backward to avoid it. Libby looked and her and put her arms down from their ready-to-hug position and frowned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm _fine_," Cindy growled, bearing her teeth in a dog-like manner. "I told you to go without me."

"You aren't fine, girl, have you looked in a mirror today? What are you WEARING? Are you insane? Why weren't you at school? Are you really sick? You never get sick!" Cindy stared blankly at Libby as she flung questions at her, waving her arms to emphasise them. "Are you listening?"Cindy looked down at her socked feet.

"No."

"_Cindy_!!" Cindy looked ready to cry. "What's wrong? Why are you acting so weird? Why didn't you tell me you'd had a fight with Nick?" Cindy's eyes widened a little, and she tugged on the sleeves of her shirt as though to make sure they were long enough, though they were plenty. They were too long for her, coming down almost to the ends of her fingers, but she pulled on them anyway in a nervous manner.

"How did you know about that?" she asked quietly, her eyes looking hurt. I looked away; it was so weird to see her like that.

"It's obvious." Libby didn't rat me out for telling, bless her. She just put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to one said as though it _were _obvious. "Cin, why aren't you coming to the concert? If you run and shower and get dressed right now, we can still be there one time." Cindy sighed and rubbed her toe into the welcome rug.

"No, thanks. Take Jimmy or Carl or Britney. I can't go."

"Why not?!"

"Because..." She paused, then looked up, her eyes glistening with angry tears. "Because I don't want to!" She slammed the door in Libby's face. She turned and looked at me, her mouth open.

"What the hell?!"

"She's just moody 'cause she's sick. C'mon, we'd better go if we don't want to be late." Libby's eyebrows were together in a tight look of displeasure as we reboarded our bikes and set off in the right direction. The concert was being held at our old elementary school, because it was one of the only places in town with a large enough stage.

When we got there we locked our bikes in the nearly-empty bike rack (most people got a ride from their parents) and went around to the front of the building.

"What am I going to do with her ticket?" Libby asked, frowning and looking down at the little slip of paper. "It cost me twenty bucks."

"Here," I said, taking it from her, "I'll get you your money back." I walked up to the door and into the crowd trying to get in. There were several fans trying to buy tickets."Anyone buying?" One man ran up to me grinned.

"I'll give your thirty dollars for a ticket," he announced proudly. "I only have one and I found out this morning that my daughter loves _Grey Star_..." I gave him the ticket and he handed me a twenty and a ten. "Thanks!" He disappeared into the crowd again.

I went back to Libby and shoved the money into her hand. "There."

She still wasn't very happy as we went through the doors and showed our tickets. She continued to be distracted even after Grey Star started playing. I tried every way I could to make her smile and enjoy herself, but she didn't seem to want to anymore. When they asked for a volunteer to dance with them on stage, she didn't even raise her hand, let alone jump up and down like everyone else screaming their lungs out. By the time she started to relax even a little, they were on their last song. She didn't enjoy the concert at all, and I felt disappointed for her. I knew that she'd regret it later. Grey Star didn't come to Retroville often. She'd be upset once this whole thing with Cindy blew over.

As we exited the building, the first a many drops of rain hit the back of my neck. We booked it back to her place, trying to avoid the inevitable storm. When it rains in Texas (which isn't that often, really), it _rains_ in Texas.

I managed to get her home and get to my place before it really started. I grabbed a watereproof coat and walked to Jimmy's (I didn't want my bike to rust, now did I?) . I told him about Cindy not coming to the concert, but he didn't seem concerned.

"I heard she was sick," was all he said about the matter. But she wasn't sick. There was something bigger going on. Why didn't he get it?!


	6. Chapter 6

The rain had turned into a storm pretty quickly, and it hard thudded against the window, blurring the outside world considerably. Jimmy was still rambling (Geez, do I ever even know what he's saying?) when I saw her. Cindy opened her front door and walked outside into the storm (I could tell it was her because of the blonde hair... either than that she was basically a blob because of the wet glass obscuring her). What was she doing? I could see the pink skin of her bare shoulders as she wrapped her arms around herself protectively and walked down her front steps. Was she crazy? Going out in this weather wearing a freaking halter top? She reached the side walk and turned left, walking in that direction almost aimlessly. She didn't look fine to me.

"Jimmy, not that this isn't all _fascinating_," I told him with a hint of sarcasm dripping off the last word, "But I got to go home and help my dad with stuff." It was the best lie I could come up with. Jimmy glanced in my direction, his eyes unfocussed slightly. When he got into his little science rants, sometimes he could get quite unobservant. He probably hadn't even heard what I said.

"Uh, sure. Bye," he said, then grabbed a book from his bedside table. I left his bedroom and shut the door behind me, took the stairs two at a time and grabbed my coat from the hall closet. I already had my boots on (never take 'em off if I can help it. They're a collector's item!), so I bolted out the door without bothering say goodbye to Hugh and Judy. They'd understand.

I ran down the sidewalk in the direction Cindy had gone, my boots slapping the wet concrete and splashing water onto my jeans. It's a good thing I'm a lot faster than Cindy, and I was running and she was walking. She had a pretty big head-start, but I caught up to her soon enough. I could see her a bit away from me as she turned off the sidewalk and onto the grass of the park. I followed her hesitantly, watching her as she rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms to warm herself. _I _was cold, and I was wearing a jacket.

She stopped and sat down on a park bench. I believe it was the same bench I had stopped at when I tried to run away. I walked up behind her and was about to give her a piece of my mind about hurting Libby's feelings like that, but the words caught in my throat when I heard her.

She was crying. She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth slightly on the bench as sobs wracked her tiny frame. She had her hair up in pigtails, I noticed, which she hadn't done since we were ten or so. She pulled her knees up to her chest and my heart broke (for Cindy! Cindy _Vortex_! I know, its mind boggling, but she looked so small and sad... I guess everyone is human, even her).

What I was going to tell her slipped my mind, so I stood behind her, brain blank. I did the only thing I could think of. I took off my jacket and put it over her shoulders. She jumped and looked up at me. I couldn't tell where the tears stopped and the rain began, but her eyes were red from crying.

"_Ultradork_?" she seemed incredulous that it would be me to do such a thing, but she looked cold, and she was a girl, technically, and it was not gentlemanly to let a girl stay cold while you are warm and dry. I shrugged and sat down beside her on the wet bench, fully aware that it would make my butt wet. It was still raining pretty hard, and I was pretty much soaked anyway, so what did it matter?

"Are you okay?" She sniffled, and put her feet back down on the muddy grass.

"No."

She didn't elaborate. I didn't force her too. I just made myself comfortable, leaning back against the wooden slats, crossing one leg over the other, resting my elbow on the back of the bench. She shivered, then put her arms through the arms of my coat and zipped it up, reluctantly. I know she hates excepting help. Doing so is so un-Cindy-like that I knew something was wrong. Not that I didn't know before, because of her odd behaviour over the last few days.

She sniffled. "I guess you'll hear about it anyway, if Nick is true to his word..." I looked over at her. "I can't believe I'm going to tell _you_..." She sighed, and wrapped her arms around herself tighter. "He took... something _important _from me."

I frowned. "Was it your bracelet?" I reached into my back pocket and took it out. I kept it in my pocket, just in case she wanted it back all of a sudden, because I knew it was hers. She took the bracelet out of my outstretched hand and turned it over in her smaller ones, running a thumb over the metal of the little rocket.

"He found this," she said quietly, the sound of the rain almost drowning her out. "I wore it all the time, and he asked me where I got it from." She closed her hand around the metal, bawling it into a fist. "I told him, and he said... he said if he ever saw it again, he'd kill me." A little sob shook her, and I had to resist the urge to hug her.

"Nick said that?" I asked, shocked. "Why would he threaten you over a piece of jewellery? Why would he threaten you at _all_?" It didn't make any sense! And yet, it did. The secret fighting, the sleeve-pulling... I glanced at her arms, but I couldn't see them because she was wearing her jacket. Had she been covering bruises? Cuts? Scars? Cindy wasn't a cutter, Libby knew her too well and would've mentioned it. But she _was_ hiding something.

She didn't answer my questions. She frowned a little, and more tears welled in her eyes. I couldn't tell how many had fallen because of the rain, but she was so sad. "Did he...?" I paused, lowering my voice. "Did he hurt you?"

She sobbed again, and put her head in her hands. She nodded, slowly. I didn't know what to _do_, what to _think_. Cindy and I weren't really friends, but that doesn't mean I didn't care about her, about what happened to her. Someone was hurting my girl's best friend? And Nick, no less! Nick, hurting Cindy... she was half the size of him! That wasn't fair!

She lifted her head and looked at me. "He..." She swallowed, as though her throat were dry. "He..." She shook her head. "I can't say it, it's so horrible what he did."

"You don't have to tell me, I get it," I told her, putting a hand on her shoulder. She flinched again, like she had when Libby went to hug her. Everything made sense, now! And all I could think about was how sorry I was feeling for Cindy, and how much I wanted to _kill _Nick for laying a hand on her.

"No, Sheen, you really _don't_." I looked at her.

"You've got to tell someone he hurt you. You have to—"

"I _can't_. Don't you see? It's all my fault! I shouldn't have let him, I _let_ him..." She sobbed again, and drew her knees back up to her chest. "Sheen... he took... he _stole_ it from me."

"Took what?" I was getting exasperated. I knew this was hard for her. I knew. But I get impatient, and antsy, and distracted easily... I just wanted her to tell me what he stole from her so I could file a proper police report and get it back for her. "Whatever it is, I'll make it give it back, I swear..." She looked into my eyes, and her eyes looked... broken.

"He can't give it back."

"Why not?!" She looked down at the bracelet still gripped tightly in her fingers and mumbled something I didn't quite catch. "What?"

"He took my virginity!"


	7. Chapter 7

I didn't know what to say. My mouth fell open in a silent 'oh,' and my mind raced with incomplete thoughts. _How could he...? Why would he...? Why didn't she stop him from...?_ _Why didn't she defend herself? Why didn't she tell someone?_ She looked into my eyes, and all those thoughts spilled from my mouth.

"How could he do that? Why would he do that? Why didn't you stop him? Why didn't you defend yourself?" She looked away. "Cindy!"

"Because I couldn't! I couldn't stop him! Don't you think I would have if I could?!" she sobbed.

"You know ty kwon do!" It didn't make sense. "You're the strongest person I know! Why didn't you hit him back? Stop him from..." I couldn't say it. The thought kept stopping mid-way through processing in my brain. Nick had taken, stolen, Cindy's... I felt sick to my stomach.

"I used to be the strongest person you know," she said quietly, rocking back and forth, "But everyone else grew, whereas I didn't. He's six feet tall, Sheen! I'm five two. He's got a good sixty pounds on me. You really think I could stop him from doing anything, _anything_ he wanted to do to me?"

I couldn't breathe when she said those words. The word 'anything' sounded so _sinister_. I didn't want to think about what he could have– no, what he _had_ done to my friend. And Cindy was my friend. I didn't know it before, but when she was human (which she was, underneath) she was just a tiny, fourteen-year-old girl who had been hurt in an unimaginable way. What if it had been another girl? What if it had been Libby? We had to stop this guy from what he was doing. I wanted to kill him, and I'd never felt that way before.

"Cindy, you have to tell the police." She shivered noticeably, and shook her head, spraying me with water from her pigtails.

"No! No. Sheen, _I can't_," she whispered. "It's my fault, and everyone will know... God, I'll be like B-Betty Quinlan!" She shivered violently again.

"But what if he does it again, to another girl? Cindy, Nick has girlfriends coming out the yin-yang, and has half a dozen others that want to be one of them. What if Britney is next? Or one of the others? He can't get away with this!"

"No one else refused him," Cindy told me with wide eyes, "He said that." She laughed mirthlessly, and I shivered (and not from the cold of the rain, though it was freezing!). "The stupid thing is, I didn't even like him."

"Then why were you going out with him? He's a jerk! Even more so since he..." She glared at me, and I closed my mouth.

"I was using him to make someone else jealous."

"And he didn't know that?"

"Nope. He thought I was just being stubborn." She sighed. "I signed the pledge, Sheen. It's not fair. I wanted to wait. I'm fourteen! It's not fair!"

"In episode six hundred nineteen, Ultralady was almost taken advantage of by Doctor Destruction after she was captured by his Destruct-oh-robot goons." Trying to relate her problem to Ultralord was a hard one, because this stuff obviously just doesn't happen on children's TV. The closest I could get was an 'almost,' but still.

She sighed, but played along. "What did Ultralord do?"

"He saved her, then killed him." She cocked and eyebrow and gave me the 'Cindy stare'. "I don't think I can kill Nick and hide the body before someone notices he's missing, though. I'm sorry." Cindy laughed (a real laugh, not that creepy laugh she'd done before), and the tiny amount of colour it brought to her pale, sunken cheeks made her look less like a walking corpse than she had before.

"You're right. The police would catch on sooner or later. Thanks anyway, Sheen." She twirled a pigtail around one finger, thinking. "Why are you being so nice to me?" I opened my mouth to reply, and found that I couldn't. I didn't know why, exactly. Cindy was always so mean to me and my friends. I never thought I liked her, but...

"Because you're my friend." A clap of thunder hit right after the word left my mouth. Cindy jumped.

"What? But I'm so mean to you! Why would you try to help me?"

"Because I'm your _friend_, Cindy. I don't know how it happened, or why, but I care about you."

"Oh." She paused, then looked me in the eye. "And you're not being a spaz today because...?"

"I actually took my medication this morning."

"Oh." The rain started to ease up a little, slowing to a light drizzle. Cindy looked up at the dark sky and frowned. "It's not fair." She shivered, and her teeth began to chatter. "I hate him." I nodded.

"I hate him, too." I looked over at her, then stood up from the bench. My knees, having been in the same position on the cold, wet bench protested— but I just stretched them and stomped my feet to try to get rid of the pins-and-needles feeling in them. "Come on, it's cold. Let's get you home before you freeze to death." Cindy looked up at me from where she still sat on the bench, her eyes as cold as ice.

"I'm not going back there."

I gave her a confused look. "You're not going home? Why not?"

"I can't take it anymore! My mother is convinced at Nick is a gift from God, or something. She keeps going on about how _wonderful_ he is, how _thoughtful_ he is. '_Oh, how polite your new boyfriend is, Cynthia! Why don't you invite him to dinner tomorrow? He is such a better influence on you than that Neutron boy was!_'" She said the praises for the bastard in an imitation of her mother's low, slightly-accented drawl. She laughed. "And of _course _that started a new fight between my parents, because where my mother approves of Nick, my dad doesn't like him nearly as much. So no, Sheen, I am not going home to where I will have to listen to my parents throw things and scream and argue about how wonderful the boy who ruined my life is!" He put her head down on her knees, her pigtails flopping forward.

"Then you're coming home with me." The response was immediate, impulsive, and completely not thought through. Her head snapped up to glare at me again, her mouth open in a half-grimace.

"Why on _Earth_would I do that?" That was the defensive 'normal' Cindy shining though. I might have seen her with her guard down for a few minutes, but I wasn't even expecting it to last as long as it had, so I wasn't surprised. I took her answer in stride, though, and answered her with my own snarky remark.

"Oh, I didn't _realise_ you'd rather sit on a park bench in the rain and kill yourself with hypothermia than be in a warm house with dry blankets and some company." I spun on my heel and began to walk purposefully away from her with long, quick strides and my shoulders hunched as though I was upset. _Three, two, one..._ I counted in my head.

"Sheen, wait!" I resisted the urge to smile as I turned back to her. She was on her feet with her hands clasped behind her back, her head tilted to one side. She bit her lip and straightened, balling her hands into fists by her sides. "I'll come with you, but I'm _not_ happy about it."

I nodded and waited for her to catch up with me. When she was at my side, we started to walk to my place. Down Jimmy's street, right past her house, she kept her eyes looking straight ahead and her arms wrapped tightly around her tiny body, though she looked as though she was itching to take a peek in her house's direction. I did for her, and saw the shadows of two adults (presumably her parents) in the window to their living room. One shadow was waving their arms around, while the other seemed to be throwing small objects across the room.

I put a hand on Cindy's back and quickened my pace a little, a grimace on my face. How could everyone have been so stupid? Her parents, Jimmy, Libby, and Britney— none of them noticed how fragile Cindy really was. None of them noticed how she'd changed in the past few weeks, how she'd been sending S.O.S. signals to everyone around her. No one had noticed in time to stop Nick from doing what he'd done.

I was freezing, yet I felt as though my blood was boiling. When I got to school on Monday, Nicholas Dean would have hell to pay.


	8. Chapter 8

I opened my front door and was automatically verbally assaulted by a nine-year-old girl.

"Sheen, where have you been? Daddy said you should have been home an hour ago! Why are you all wet? Who's the girl?" I nudged Cindy into the foyer and closed the door behind us. With the cold shut out, the tepidness of the air in my house really started taking effect, bringing some warmth to my cold, wet skin. Cindy dropped her arms to her sides, so I suppose it had the same effect on her.

"Daddy, Sheen's home, and he's all wet, and he's got a _girl _with him!" Mia screeched, running into the living room, her sock feet slipping along the linoleum floor.

"Little sister?" Cindy guessed. Her voice has a slightly disapproving tone to it, as though there was something wrong with having a sibling. Then again, my sibling just happened to be one of the most annoying little girls on the planet... she had a point.

"Yep."

My dad walked into the foyer from the kitchen, drying his hands on an old dishtowel. "Sheen! We're been worried sick about you! Where have you been? And, oh, hello." He finally seemed to notice Cindy was standing beside me. "Sandy Vortex, isn't it?"

"Cindy," Cindy corrected quietly, staring at her soaked shoes. My father took one look at us— we must have looked like drowned rats— and a motion for us to stay where we were. He jogged up the stairs and returned a moment later with two big fluffy towels and handed one to each of us.

"What were you thinking," I heard him mutter, "Middle of November... hypothermia..."

Cindy blushed and said a meek, "Thank you," before peeling off my jacket and trying to rub some warmth back into her skin with the towel. My dad took the coat from her and then eyed me suspiciously.

"So," he said, "What the hell is goin' on?" Cindy and I looked at each other.

"I got lost," Cindy provided. She's a fast thinker like that. My lies either takes ages to formulate, or they suck and everyone can see right through them. "Sheen found me." She glanced at me. "I'm very grateful."

"S'okay," I told her.

"Well, Sheen, go change into some dry clothes before you freeze. I'm sure we've still got some of Margret's stuff you can put on until I drive you home—"

"No!" Cindy and I said in unison, and my dad stopped midsentence.

"Dad, can Cindy stay the night?" His eyebrows shot up, and so did hers. She eyed me suspiciously for a moment before she decided the offer was completely innocent. My dad bit his lip.

"Your parent's are probably worried sick..."

"They won't even realise I'm gone. Honestly, Mr. Estevez, I can't go back there. Not now." Her voice cracked, and I could practically see my dad's heart melting.

"Oh... alright. You can wear something of Margret's, and you can have the couch, I suppose..."

"Mi casa et su casa," I provided helpfully, and Cindy shot me a look.

"Thank you, Mr. Estevez." She wrapped the now-damp towel around her shoulders and smiled slightly in appreciation.

He led her upstairs to find something of my mother's for her to wear, and I dashed ahead of them and into my bedroom— the room at the end of the hall with the Ultralord poster on the door— and quickly peeled off my soaked clothing and put on my Ultralord pyjamas.

I picked up my wet clothes from their heap on the floor and trudged to the bathroom. Dad always got mad at me if I left wet things laying about, because when they dried like that they'd start to smell. I hung them over the side of the tub, then went to the linen closet and took out a blanket and spare pillow for Cindy. I took them downstairs with me into the living room and dropped them on the carpet, then removed the couch cushions and yanked on the little lever that deploys the fold-out bed.

"Sheen?" I looked up at saw Cindy standing halfway down the stairs. Her hair was still in its loose pigtails, but she was wearing a light blue nightgown and pyjama bottoms with a fish pattern on them that looked a little too big for her. "Your dad says he's going to bed as soon as he finishes reading Mia the next chapter of Harry Potter." I nodded and pulled on the lever again. The bed part sprang out with a creaking sound, and I quickly folded it into place and locked it.

"Thanks so much for doing this." Her voice was a hushed whisper, so quiet that I barely heard her. I looked up from where I was laying out the blankets on her makeshift sleeping place to stare at her.

"It's nothing, really." I picked up the pillow from the floor and offered it to her. She smiled and excepted it, hugging it to her chest.

"No, it's not. I honestly don't know how I could have been so stupid, going out like that... you saved me, in more ways than one, tonight." She paused. "Like a superhero," she added as an afterthought, and then smirked. "Like Ultralord."

--

The next morning Cindy put on her regular clothes that my father had put in the dryer over night and left before I got up. It was Sunday morning, for Christ's Sake! A growing teenage boy is allowed to sleep in _sometimes_, right?

When I got up around noon, dad had already put the couch back in order and told me she'd stayed for breakfast with Mia and my Nana then went home. I felt slightly guilty about letting her go back there— her parent's constant fighting was obviously having a toll on her as well as Nick's assault on her. And it could be called nothing less than an assault; if anything, I considered it worse.

"I should call her," I mumbled, picking up the cordless and the phonebook and taking them to my room. I found her number in the phonebook rather quickly (honestly, Vortex isn't that common a name) and dialled. I tried several times, but the line was always busy. It was frustrating, and I ended up chucking the phone across the room, then swore.

Just my luck (isn't it always?), because the phone started ringing just before it collided with the already-dented section of wallpaper. It stopped ringing once it hit the wall, though, leaving me to scramble to it desperately and check who I had just accidently hung up on. 'Folfax' came up on the call history, a conversation lasting for 0:00. I rolled my eyes and hit redial.

It rang, and Libby immediately answered. "_Did you just hang up on me?_"

"Sorry. It was an accident," I explained quickly, flopping onto my bed and cuddling up to my Ultralord comforter.

"_What the heck is goin' on? I've been calling for half an hour, and yo' number keeps comin' up as 'busy.'_"

"Sorry," I apologised again, "I was trying to get a hold of Cindy, but her number's busy, too." There was silence on Libby's end for a moment.

"_Sheen, why were you trying to call _Cindy_?_" She spat out her friend's name like a curse word, stretching the 'ee' sound for a little longer than she normally would. I frowned, trying to remember why she was angry at Cindy. Oh, right. I remembered. They'd had a spat when Cindy refused to come to the Grey Star thing with us.

"I wanted to make sure she was okay," I said, twirling the cord around one finger and biting my lip. "She's been acting... strange. Maybe something happened?" I was fishing and I knew it. I knew Libby didn't know what happened with Nick. And yet, a part of me was screaming, '_She should have realised! _You_ should have realised! Anyone who was paying attention could have stopped this injustice!_' The thing was, none of us had been paying attention. And it just so happened that that was my forte.

"_She's probably brooding about her little fight with Nick,_" Libby said, venom in her voice, "_Oh, poor baby with the perfect life gets a wake-up call. You know what? I'm sick of her. I was always the good friend, and she was always the whiny one. 'Nick's been acting weird,' 'Nick wasn't very nice to me this morning,' 'Is it normal for guys to be like this?' I am totally over Cindy and her complaining. Completely. Done._"

A lump formed in my throat. Cindy had been sending out signs, and even Libby hadn't seen them. She still didn't. "Don't say that," I said quietly, choking a little past the lump. I cleared my throat. It didn't help. "Don't... just don't say that, okay? She's your friend. You've had worse fights. You'll make up."

"_Maybe before, but not now. She's been so distant lately. That's not how a best friend is supposed to act. I think it might be for the best if we stopped being friends... for good._"

"Oh, Chica," I whined, "Just think it over. Talk to her. Please? For me?"

"_Since when are you so interested in my and Cindy's friendship? I thought you hated her!_"

"I do." I paused. "I did. Listen, just... keep an open mind, and talk to her."

"_What do you know that I don't?_" she asked suspiciously. She could _always_ see through my lies and half-truths. I was silent. "_Sheen!_"

"I can't talk right now, Chica, my dad's calling me for dinner," I lied quickly, my voice rising in pitch by about an octave as I tried to deceive my girlfriend.

"_Shee—_" I hung up and stared at the phone. I hung up on Libby. I _lied_to Libby. I couldn't believe it. I'd never done anything like that before. Cindy's secret pulled on my heartstrings and I bit my shaking lip. All I wanted to do was curl up in a ball and cry for her. I looked over at my Ultralord alarm clock. The big hand moved and the clock blinked as the digital time along the top changed. It was two o'clock in the afternoon.


	9. Chapter 9

Monday started out normally. Libby seemed to have either forgotten about yesterday afternoon, or was pretending to forget about it, but when I met her at the bus stop, she was all smiles just like she usually was. Maybe she sensed that I had lied to her for a reason, and that it was important. She's cool like that; giving people space at just the right time. I knew I'd be hearing about my hang-up sooner or later, but for right now, it wasn't an issue.

We got on the bus and sat down next to each other near the back. It lurched to a stop again outside Jimmy's, and he and Carl boarded. They sad across the aisle from us, making small talk. Jimmy's hair was different than usual— the first odd thing that happened that day. His usual whippy-dip style looked as though it was melting, this signature curl had lost its lustre and was hanging down in front of his forehead. He kept brushing it out of the way of his eyes, and I gave him the 'what the heck?' look. He smiled.

"I ran out of hairspray," he explained.

"You should do that more often," Libby commented, glancing out the window. "It doesn't look half bad." I had to agree (in a completely non-gay way, of course). It reminded me of the hairstyle his future self had had when we went to the future that one time with his Chronoarch.

I noticed Libby was still staring out the window, and that the bus hadn't started moving yet. I looked passed her out the window myself, and saw Cindy trudging down the sidewalk to the bus slowly. The driver honked the horn and she boarded.

The bus started while she was still standing, and she grabbed hold of the edge of a seat to stop from falling as the bus lurched again. She apologised to the boy who was in said seat— Oleander, as it just so happened. She made her way to the back of the bus and took a seat in the empty place in front of Libby and I. I noticed that her hair was back in _her_ signature style, a high ponytail that curled slightly to one side. I also noticed that she was still wearing long sleeves to cover the bruises. The lump in my throat returned.

"—so I need you guys over tonight to test it," I heard Jimmy say, snapping me out of it. I had no clue about what he wanted us to test this time, but it was probably something important, so I nodded in agreement.

Morning classes were ordinary and uneventful. Cindy, Libby and Jimmy weren't in any of my morning classes. The only class all five of us shared was past period PE, and only because Jimmy hadn't been able to find a way out of it. Carl was in all my classes except math (I had gotten a seventy-one in math last year, and they decided to put me in academic rather than applied, like Carl. The seventy-one was my first ever, excluding the one hundred I got on that test when I was a genius, and I was very proud of it. Apparently I'd had the capacity to do well all along, and as soon as I started the new ADHD meds I'm on, my school work dramatically improved, though I'm still basically an idiot.), but he never talks very much because he's always like, "_Trying to concentrate! Shut up, Sheen!_"

At lunch, Libby put her tray down next to mine. I was sitting across from Carl and Jimmy at our usual table. Libby usually sits with the popular kids (and therefore I have to, too) but Mondays are 'sit with the guys' days. She smiled and started eating her pizza, listening to our conversation.

I wasn't really listening to what Carl was saying. I saw Cindy across the cafeteria, standing all by herself, looking lost. She was holding her metal lunch tray in her hands, and looking around for a place to sit. She looked like she was seriously considering sitting at Nick's table. Well, I wasn't going to let that happen.

"Hey! Cindy! Over here!" I beckoned to her, and she gratefully took the out I'd given her, carefully making her was across the room towards us.

"Sheen, what'd you do that for?" Jimmy hissed, and Libby nodded.

"She was all by herself—" Cindy reached our table and gently put her tray down next to mine. Without looking at Jimmy or Libby, she sat down on my left and put her hands in her lap. Libby and Jimmy looked at each other with mirroring mildly angry expressions, while Carl just looked uncomfortable.

An uncomfortable silence overtook our table. No one said a work. Cindy meekly ate her lunch, while Carl scarfed his down like there'd be no tomorrow. Finally, Libby broke the silence.

"So there's a Pep Rally today, huh?" I looked over at her, surprised.

"There is?"

"Yeah, it was on the announcements."

Pep Rallies are regular occurrences. Usually after school, though sometimes before or during, they were like mini-assemblies held by the student council to 'perk up the school day and deliver important messages'. In other words, the council would talk to us about a bunch of lame crap (school spirit, rah-rah!) while the teachers did whatever teachers do in the teachers' lounge when they're not teaching.

"Oh."

The silence resumed, until it was once again broken, this time by Carl. "Uh, guys, everyone's leaving to go to the Rally." He was right, of course. Everyone was tossing their garbage and leaving the lunch room. I glanced out the large windows at the back of the room. I could see the council setting up the port-a-stage at the back of the football field (the side that backed onto Main Street), and many kids already either standing around it or sitting on the stands.

"Pep-time," Libby declared sarcastically, pushing her half-finished lunch towards Carl. He polished it off in half a second and tossed the garbage for her, while I collected everyone's trays and put them atop the large pile already formed by the door. Our small group of five headed out the door to the courtyard, and from there to the football field. I trailed behind the other three with Cindy, watching her carefully. Though a little more withdrawn than she normally would be, she looked almost... normal. Hair bounced as she walked, her eyes were just as green as they normally were, she had the usual half-scowl on her face, covering up whatever she was really feeling.

We joined the mosh-pit of sorts that had formed in front of the stage. We were bumped and pushed and nudged as we fought our way to the front; well, mostly Carl nudged people out of the way and the four of us followed in his wake. When we got to the front of the stage, I felt my stomach clench into a tight knot.

On the back of the stage, standing and rocking gently back and forth on his skateboard was the son of a bitch who had raped my friend. He had a smug smile on his perfect pretty-boy face, and his lengthy black hair fell into his eyes. He flipped it back without using his hands, which were tucked into his back pockets in a nonchalant way. The girls swooned over him, yet I could not have imagined anyone uglier at that moment.

Also on the stage was the Student Body President and captain of the football team, Michael La Fleur. He was standing off to the side, having his tie straightened by the 'first lady' of sorts, head cheerleader and future Valedictorian, Paula Jefferies. La Fleur is a big guy, muscles bulging under the white collar shirt and tie he was wearing to try and look smart. He wasn't. His 'brains', the only reason he was graduating, belonged to Paula. She did his homework for him. It was obvious. So, of course, the teachers had no idea.

La Fleur cleared his throat and gave Paula a winning smile and a wink before making his way casually to the middle of the stage. He tapped the microphone and it screeched. He cleared his throat again, but this time we heard it because it was amplified and shot out at us from the big speakers set up on either side of the stage.

"Hellloooo Retroville!" he said in a mock-rockstar-like voice. He grinned. "I, Mike La Fleur, your humble and modest Student Body President—" Several whistles rang out across the field. "—have several announcements to make."

La Fleur made several announcements; the football team won again, the Prom's theme was set (Double-Oh-Seven, black-tie, James Bond-themed), the science lab would be reopening under the condition that Jimmy was no longer allowed inside, the breakout of mono was now under control... blah blah blah.

I drifted, paying more attention to Nick. He was still smiling smugly, rocking back and forth on his stupid skateboard. He's shift his weight to one foot so the board rolled a little to the left, then shifted it onto the other foot so it would roll the other way. He never moved more than a few inches to each side; perhaps he was trying to see how many times he could do it before he accidently crossed the little line on the floor of where the port-a-stage where the panels fit together.

I snapped back to attention when La Fleur started to talk about the upcoming charity car wash, raising money for the 'aftermath fund'. He then proceeded to tell us what the fund was for.

"...In the instance of flood, fire, wind, drought, alien attack, superhero rampage, shrinking accident or girl-eating plant, the town will have enough dough to replace whatever has been destroyed by either natural disaster or Neutron and co.."

I could feel eyes on the back of my head. _Neutron and co._. Oh, of _course_, blame it all on Jimmy and his friends. Most of the time the disastrous things that tend to affect Retroville aren't even our fault! Well... more like half, but still.

"And last but not least—" _Thank God, _I thought, sighing internally. These things always lasted far too long. "The Virginity Pledge!" He made a bow, and waved his girlfriend onto the stage. Paula gave a little wave to the crowd, then held up the laminated pledge, which was rolled up like a sacred scroll. She adjusted the microphone so it was in front of her mouth instead of high above her head.

"Hi Retroville High!" she said perkily, her blonde curly hair bouncing a little. She was, of course, wearing her cheerleading uniform. The rest of the squad cheered happily as their leader smiled cordially. "This is this year's Virginity Pledge. As all of you know, every year since RVH was founded the seniors have made a pledge and gotten all the current virgins to sign it, promising that they will _stay_ innocent for the rest of the year."

La Fleur nodded and leaned over to talk into the now much-too-short mic. "I am very happy to announce that this year, over three hundred students signed the pledge!" The crowd cheered, and I scowled. Yes, we live in Texas. Yes, being a virgin until you're married is a big thing here. But honestly, do we need to _advertise_ it? There were only about three hundred and fifty kids at our school. Most people had signed the pledge, obviously, including myself.

"Oh, now, don't brag," Paula said, playfully pushing him in the chest. He feigned a hurt expression as she stole the mic back. "Just because this is one of the best numbers _ever_..." She grinned. "Way to go, Retroville!" I saw Jimmy roll his eyes. I could relate. The whole thing felt set-up and forced.

La Fleur grabbed the mic and removed it from it's stand, suddenly serious. "We take the pledge very seriously here at Retroville High," he said, his tone of voice proud. "And it seems as though some of our youngest pledges might have..." He lowered his voice. "Broken their promise."

There were several exaggerated gasps from the cheerleading squad. I suddenly felt even sicker to my stomach. He wouldn't _dare_.

La Fleur glanced over at Nick, who gave him two thumbs up. I looked over at Cindy. She had a shocked and slightly devastated look on her face. Our eyes met, and I silently begged her with my eyes to leave before he said it. She straightened her back and shook her head. She was trying to be strong, but we both knew what was coming.

"Go," I whispered, "You don't want to be here when—" She shook her head again.

"I give fair warning to others who wish to break the pledge." He paused for effect. "This could happen to you." I wanted to turn and run; drag Cindy with me. Yet I could not look away was Paula unrolled the scroll that was the official pledge. La Fleur ran his index finger down the list, and stopped at one name several inches from the top. Keeping his finger on that name, he took out his lighter.

"Betty Quinlan," he declared, flicking his thumb over the lighter and igniting the flame. He held it up to the plastic-covered paper. Several people gasped as he proceeded to hold the lighter up to her name, and we all watched in either horror or admiration as he burned her name off the list. "You are no longer part of the pledge."

I looked around for the poor girl. She was nowhere to be seen.

He took his thumb off the lighter and the flame went out, leaving the acrid smell of melted plastic hanging in the air. "One down," said Paula sadly, shaking her head. "Shame on you." La Fleur once again began to run his index finger down the list. My heart began to beat rapidly, and it felt as though it was in my throat. I willed him to stop and think about what he was doing with my brain; he either didn't hear me, or didn't listen.

"Aaaaaand, Cindy Vortex!" He lit the lighter again. There was utter silence for half a second as the words set in. Then the uproar began.

There was a chorus of, '_what!_'s and '_no way!_'s and gasps and shrieks of surprise. The only ones who were silent were the people on the stage, myself and Cindy. She stared blankly ahead, her expression unreadable as she watched her own signature turn black and disappear.

"What does he think he's doing?!" I heard Jimmy say from beside me. "Of course Cindy's a—" He paused, then looked over at Cindy. "Why aren't you stopping him?!"

I tuned him about as I heard another sound. Laughing. Someone was laughing. And I knew who. His _evil_ mud-coloured eyes smiled and crinkled in the corners as he chuckled, still rocking back and forth on his stupid skateboard.

"What are you laughing at?!" I heard my voice say, without me telling my brain to say it. The next thing I know, I've hopped up on the stage and was storming towards Nick, my fists clenched tightly by my sides. His smile faltered, then resumed ten-fold.

"What you gonna do about it?" he asked smugly, that insufferable grin still gracing his ugly mug. I drew back my hands my fists unfurling. "Thought so."

The next ten seconds seemed to happen in slow motion and without sound. My hands were flung towards Nick, palms out, almost of their own accord. They made contact with his shirt. I shoved him in the chest, hard. He fell off his skateboard and the stage, his arms flailing in surprise. He fell into the red curtain that was set up behind the stage and pulled it down with him. It was torn off the rod it was being held up on from left to right, pulled down to the ground below. Time resumed at it's normal pace, and so did the sound.

Breaks squealing.

Nick screaming.

And a horrible, painful sounding crunch.


End file.
